


quake, o foolish one, and face you fearèd fate

by UniversalSatan



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Action/Adventure, Chuck E. Cheese's, Comedy, Crack, Dirty Jokes, Extended Metaphors, Gen, Holodeck Character, Holodecks/Holosuites, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Poetic, Pon Farr, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversalSatan/pseuds/UniversalSatan
Summary: Nando, who is finally being penalized for keeping his growing state of pon farr unchecked, must face the consequences to his poor holodeck program choice.Text from the USS Tribble Threat Roleplay (direct order from the captain that this be posted smh), but some background is given and can technically be read without more context.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3
Collections: USS Tribble Threat





	quake, o foolish one, and face you fearèd fate

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure what overcame me the other night, whether it was the sleep deprivation or just the general shenanigans aboard the USS Tribble Threat, but in a fit of inspired mania, I ended up writing this... uh... masterpiece? Over the course of like 10 hours in the rp, and have since then been "ordered" by our good captain to preserve this piece of literature, so..... here it is lmfao.
> 
> A big thanks to Jade ([tumblr](https://voidofall.tumblr.com/)) as Sindari, yel-halansu ([tumblr](https://yel-halansu.tumblr.com/) / [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yel_halansu/pseuds/yel_halansu)) as T'Vana, Verelan ([tumblr](https://greatbirdofthegalaxy.tumblr.com/) / [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatbirdofthegalaxy/pseuds/greatbirdofthegalaxy)) for both the intense fight with Shan that led Nando here in the first place as well as forgetting to use ooc brackets (leading to the iconic Voice Of ~~God~~ Verelan moment Nando encounters in the middle there), my cheerleading squad that really sat there in voice-chat with me for god knows how many hours as I laughed manically to myself and typed at 5wph, and the entire USS Tribble Threat rp for just being amazing and letting this happen in the first place lol <3
> 
> Among all the chaos that occurred as I gradually descended into madness, I feel the need to point out that Cobwebs and Strange by The Who was at one point considered the theme to this entire... thing. ([spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/5ZgS767avJWRO83TXZMCSm?si=fTeQeT6NQ6OrnwQhz7sWhg) / [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UcpkUNqrjQU&ab_channel=Grafietstift)). to make it even worse i'm pretty sure there's at least a supernatural quote and a skyrim quote in there, so have fun.

_**Background** _

_Lieutenant Commander Lona, affectionately known as Nando, serves as helmsman and science officer aboard the USS_ _Bartholomew (also known as the USS Tribble Threat). Though he seems to be mostly physiologically human, Nando is half-Vulcan, and has currently been undergoing pon farr for the past few weeks, which he has surmised is an affect due to his genotype. As the weeks have progressed, Nando had been getting increasingly erratic and illogical with his behavior, and he is currently reaching a peak._

_Earlier in the day, Nando participated in the newly-formed "Fight Club" aboard the ship, up against the young Andorian science officer Shan, for who, upon first meeting, Nando felt a parental/protective affection. At first, despite being almost a hundred pounds smaller, Shan held his stance and fought the good fight, but halfway through the match, Nando proceeded to get increasingly out of control until he took it a little too far and left Shan seriously injured. Fight Club was stopped early, and after Shan was taken to medbay, Nando bolted, involving a chase with the Chief of Security that ended with Nando being beamed from a stopped turbolift to the medbay._

_In medbay, Romulan Nurse Sindari attempted to treat Nando as resident Vulcan T'Vana explained some of the semantics behind pon farr. It was found that Nando did not have a bondmate—as not only did he grow up on Earth, but also never met his biological Vulcan father in addition to the xenogeneticists of his past deeming him physiologically human enough to not need to worry—so Sindari and T'Vana decided to quite literally dragged Nando to the holodeck to see if he could sort it out himself._

* * *

Sindari enters the holodeck and pushes Nando in. “Pick a program.”

T’Vana looks at Nando, wondering if he is still coherent enough to make that choice.

Nando glares at Sindari for a moment before turning to the console. Turning back to look at her in the eye, he very resolutely jabs the program for the vintage Terran establishment of “Chuck E. Cheese''.

Sindari looks around confused. Terrans are strange, Vulcans are even stranger. “Are you sure this is what you want?” She looks to T’Vana for an affirmative.

T’Vana shrugs. Who is she to argue with the cravings of an individual in _plak tau._ T’Vana stares at the singing animatronic mouse in silent judgement.

Sindari does one last scan of Nando before setting the computer to lock the doors. “We shall leave you to it then.” She turns to leave and then adds: “Have fun.” She giggles.

T’Vana quickly punches a code in the computer that generates a beautiful, scantily dressed Terran with flowing locks in the middle of the room. They stare at Nando with longing eyes as T’Vana follows Sindari and leaves, locking the door behind her.

The visage of Sindari and T'Vana begin to disappear behind the holodeck door, parallel and antiparallel to Anda with the turbolift and Nando's entrance to _Fight Club._ Nando stands there, only _now_ realizing what he got himself into, breath once again steady and calm for the while. T'Vana lingers at the door, and Nando steadfastly holds her gaze, intense with every ounce of his being. 

And then she's gone, and Nando can only catch one last glance of her delicately pointed ears and the way her robes flutter around her ankles before the door shuts and locks between them.

Nando stands there for far too long in the bright lights and music of the play center, the sound of holographic children screeching, and with the bust of someone with long locks of hair tumbling over his shoulder pressing into his back, draping themselves over him.

* * *

  
  


Nando sits at the head of one of the long tables, avoiding the tiny screaming gremlins and eating shitty pizza. The holographic babe sits beside him, batting their eyelashes as he washes the "food" down with soda fountain swamp water. 

_"—a birthday at Chuck E. Cheese's!"_

A visceral dread floods his system, and Nando closes his eyes, praying to a god that isn't listening as an animatronic rat/mouse manifests from thin air and advances toward Nando. (He can't see it, of course, but he can feel Its presence). Holographic kids start another round of screaming and it's like a dam breaks open, all of the long white tables being filled with small children as the rat starts to sing a birthday song to— _you guessed it_ —Nando. 

Perhaps it's the _plak tow_ that runs rampant throughout his system, but if you look very, _very_ closely, a single tear runs its weary course down his cheek as he embraces the fresh hell he must endure as an act of penance.

  
  


* * *

  
  


No one is quite sure how, (least of all Nando), but Nando had been stuffed into the plexiglass tornado booth by the birthday rat, standing in complete silence as he was pelted by small metal coins that also depicted the face of who was now becoming his mortal enemy. 

Either way, Nando had decided to take advantage of the situation, being locked alone in this plexiglass tornado booth as desperate children banged on the walls around him: there were a _lot_ of intimidating tokens, and he hadn't started his birthday adventure with a complimentary Styrofoam cup with the disappointing amount of tokens within, so he had shoveled all of the tokens into his now-bulging sweatpants pockets which jingled with every step and enraged small children all across the vicinity. 

At first, when Nando made a beeline to the skiball machine, he played responsibly, trying to use genuine skill to aim and bowl the unfortunately-coloured balls into the 100 point slots because he's not a coward. After breaking the first skiball machine by hurling the ball like a baseball pitch because he got a consecutive sixty-nine gutters, Nando ripped away his sad strip of prize tickets before monkeying across the next skiball machine with a pile of balls in arms, dunking each and every one into the 100 point slot and staring daggers at any fool who dared approach his ever-growing stash of Chuck E. Cheese Prize TicketsTM.

  
  


* * *

  
  


HoloBabe finds Nando perched on top of the skiball machine resembling something like how an ancient Terran "possum" may have been depicted, but before they can lie across the skiball ramp with a red rose between their teeth (Nando does _not_ want to know where that came from), Nando dives around their reach to claim his tickets with a smooth barrel roll and successfully escapes with his loot in hand. (Oh, if only he had enough tickets for the plastic Disney(c) Indiana Jones Whip to complete the look). 

Nando's next target turns out to be an unfortunate whack-a-mole machine, as he reasons that maybe he could at least try to vent some of this damn _pon farr_ energy via sheer unadulterated violence. The mallet feels imbalanced in his hand, but as soon as the lights flash and the music kicks up, all Nando sees is movement, obliterating the rodents with breathtaking speed. 

As the moles surrender go back into hiding and the lights die down, Nando catches sight of a reflection in the scoreboard and freezes, dropping the mallet so that it bounces off the machine. _Two round ears, beady black eyes and nose, a sinister smile and a baseball cap..._ Nando gasps, whirling around and trapped up against the whack-a-mole game. His heart thuds harder in his chest than it has all day, and he narrows his eyes, taking in the motionless animatronic that stands inches away from his face. 

_Charles. Entertainment. Cheese._

Slipping away quietly, Nando goes to find the game where he can just pelt balls at clowns for as long as he pleases.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Needing some calm-down time, Nando sat at a table with the rest of the holographic toddlers, hoarding the good black crayon for himself as he doodled a smiling blue stick figure, a shaky portrayal of some trees and a sun with sunglasses in the corner, and an excellent architect's rendition of the USS Tribble Threat. _"im sorry for hurting your_ _feelings_ _self. maybe when youre better you can punch me back and also you can borrow my subscription for journal of biophysics < 3" _ was scrawled underneath, and it wasn't even remotely the best handwriting at that table. Nando frowned at his masterpiece for a moment before adding _"shan"_ with an arrow to the stick figure, folding up the paper, and pocketing it. 

An unopened loot bag sat beside some of the crayons he was using, and like Eve in the Garden of Eden, he swiped that too and pocketed it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nando turns a corner and drops to a crouch, his back pressed up against the basketball game. He flinches as the chain basket rattles as some child misses shot after shot, but he strains to hear past that, hear past the breath through his nose and the blood rushing past his ears. 

A hand grips his shoulder and Nando definitely does not shriek, rocketing himself in the other direction and onto the crumb-filled and stiff vintage 1970s arcade carpet. HoloBabe is back, staring at him from where he had been hiding, smiling suggestively and reaching out to where Nando had been only moments before. They start to step closer, but Nando is already on his feet, spotting the birthday rat staring blankly at him from a distance. His heart rabbits as he makes a break for it, weaving around holographic children and arcade games before diving into the SkyTubes. 

_This is definitely a bad idea_ , Nando's head chants as he scrambles up the scratchy net ramp, hearing how the palms of his hands stick and suction to the plastic of the rather suffocating tubes. He passes one or two children in his venture who stare at him either judgmentally or with pure terror, which doesn't matter too much in the grand scope of things, but he ends up blocking up the tube when he gets to the segment with a transparent floor. 

Directly beneath his hands and knees are the grey ears and the bright purple baseball cap Nando has grown to know too well over the course of this timeless hell. Though kids move around it like a fluid water current, the animatronic stays perfectly still. 

Until its head tilts up in one smooth motion, staring directly back at Nando. 

In his desperate effort to escape the jungle gym, Nando gets stuck in the yellow taxi cab compartment for a hot minute.

  
  


* * *

  
  


** NANDO! JUST FUCK! **

Nando startles at the echo booming throughout the SkyTubes. Blinking, he continues scuttling through the piping.

_Must have been nothing._

  
  


* * *

  
  


In the corner of the restaurant, hidden away from everything else, a lone monument stood out of place from the world around it. A single spotlight shone down onto its presence and highlighted the aluminum plaque situated in front, reading: _"Dashcon Ball Pit" Modern Art, 2014._ Nando stared down at it in dismay. _Looks kinda sad._ There weren't even enough balls to fill the entire pit. 

Absently wondering if this was the _"I give up"_ path, Nando sighed and crawled into the modern art installment, sitting crisscross-applesauce at the very center. The historical depiction of a _"Ball Pit"_ was incredibly dissatisfying, especially considering the fact that he was basically sitting against the hard concrete floor, the thin canvas lining doing little to cushion the effect. 

Nando ran his hands through the balls, feeling how they moved along his fingers. Pausing to grasp at one of them, he fished out a blue ball, bringing it closer to his face to observe from a better distance. He turned it around carefully, brow furrowing in thought before curling his fingers around that one blue ball decisively and thrusting it deep into his pocket with the rest of his booty.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nando sits in front of the ticket eater for what feels like forever, feeding the machine strip after strip of Chuck E. Cheese Prize Tickets, watching the little red counter wrack up points. The munching sound the entity makes as it eats up Nando's glory is actually rather therapeutic, and Nando only briefly considers ripping the audio to use as a meditation backing track before remembering that T'Vana has enough for which to silently judge him as it is. Obtaining his receipt at last, Nando marches up to the Prize Desk, slamming it down triumphantly onto the glass display case. 

"What'll it be?" the employee drones, gaze flickering down boredly to Nando's ticket receipt. 

Gripping the edge of the glass display case, Nando peruses his options. The prizes beneath his hands are much too cheap, and this is the first time he has enough—as ancient Terrans once referred it— _"cash"_ to pick from the back wall. His eyes glaze over the deflated soccer balls, the Super Soaker NERF gun, the choir of furbies... which all fade into the background as his attention is drawn to the shining Minecraft Diamond Sword at the very top of it all, so beyond comparison that even angels sing at the glorious sight. 

"That one," Nando says, pointing at the Minecraft Diamond Sword. 

The employee lazily shifts his gaze between the _50,000pts_ on the locked glass display case with the Minecraft Diamond Sword and the _49,998_ on Nando's receipt. "Not enough," the employee says plainly. 

Nando slaps down another ticket he found at the bottom of his pocket. 

The employee sighs and crosses off the _8_ in the _49,998_ and makes it _49,999_. "Maybe you'd like some Airheads instead—" 

They don't get very far until Nando has the front of their purple uniform shirt bunched up in his hand, slamming the employee over the glass display case and murmuring threateningly close to their face: "You don't understand. I _need._ Minecraft Diamond Sword." 

Needless to say, Nando holds up Minecraft Diamond Sword like he obtained Excalibur mere moments later.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A hand dropped onto Nando's shoulder, and he startled, whipping around and brandishing Minecraft Diamond Sword at HoloBabe's beaming face. They fluttered their eyelashes at him but otherwise stood completely still... holding something out for him. 

Hesitantly, Nando reached out, opening his palm to accept... _whatever_ HoloBabe had for him. Their grasp loosened suddenly and into Nando's palm fell... a skiball. 

Blinking at it for a moment, Nando glanced up to HoloBabe and tried to look at them from a new perspective, from a fresh page. 

"Thank you," he murmured sincerely, gripping the ball tight and adding it to his pocket with the rest of his loot. HoloBabe stepped to the side and Nando pressed on.

  
  


* * *

  
  


All the lights in the room go out at once, plunging you into darkness. You stand there, holding your ground, squeezing the hilt of Minecraft Diamond Sword just to make sure it's still there. 

And then, one spotlight flickers on, and the fluorescent buzz fills your ears as you shield your eyes from the bright light. Blinking away the blindness, you make out the shape of a familiar figure poised on a stage and standing above you, so high and mighty that you almost feel the need to drop down to your knees. 

_Thine mortal enemy: Charles Entertainment Cheese._

"I always knew this day would come." 

_I sure as hell didn't,_ you think automatically. 

"I've always—"   
"Even then—"   
"Rat infestation—"  
"Recycled pizza—"   
"Five Nights—"   
"If you don't stop fucking skipping all of my fucking dialogue, you'll be subjected to an ad break every five lines." 

You sigh and relent. 

"The answer is _you_ ," the rat overlord continues, returning to his automated tone once again. " _You_ are the problem... but you are also the _solution_." 

_Of course I am, I'm the main character._

" _You..._ are the Birthday Boy." 

The room is bathed in red, and before you can question the exact mood it's trying to set, you hear the original soundtrack start its cycle from somewhere in the distance, horrifyingly reminiscent of _The Birthday Song._

"You have nowhere left to run, and you have nowhere left to hide," Charles tells you. "You must rear your ugly head and face me head-on. The time has come to make a choice: will you lay down and die? Or will you stand and fight to live another day?" 

The rat is just out of reach, and you stretch a shaking hand to brush your fingertips against its glowing image... but it's just too far, just outside your grasp. 

"Farewell, my dear rival: may you be satisfied with the outcome of your actions." 

Your hand grasps the edge of the stage.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Only a few fingers that scrabble at that corner, slipping as your sweat makes your hold slide, but then you surge forward again, pulling yourself to the stage and heaving yourself up and over until you're _there_ , you're lying—weak and bared to all that isn't the world—but lying on equal ground all the same. 

"Your words mean nothing to me," you say, pulling yourself up onto an elbow. "You're not the one that decides what I'll do and who I'll be." 

Charles's head creaks as he tilts his head downward; he's old, centuries old, seen worlds and empires and stars dawn and collapse, and still you lay there, looking up to the face of god and refusing to weep. 

"Then decide." 

For a moment, you want to crumple, like your foundation is crumbling and you are rooted to your spot, but something warms you to the very core, burning hotter and hotter until you can ignore it no longer, and you reach into your pocket and pull out the skiball, which bobs gently in the air as you let it go, burning brighter than the sun. 

"Perseverance," Charles gasps, drawn into its unholy image. "To endure and never let your determination fail." 

The next object is flailing within the loot bag, and you scramble to set it free, seeing a glowing bouncy ball rocket from its confines. 

"Humility," Charlies continues. "To resign and accept your failings." 

The last object that burns through your leg is the blue ball, which hovers for a moment before joining the rest of its brethren. 

[The editor has made a conscious decision to remove this dialogue segment.] 

"It's you," Charles breathes, like he's been waiting for this moment all his life. _"The Ballmaster."_

With the point of your Minecraft Diamond Sword pressed against the stage, you pull yourself up, leaning against its strength until you can stand on your own two feet once more. 

"I've made my choice," you whisper, but it's only the two of you left in this world. The balls start humming, floating in orbit faster and faster around Charles's head. "Have you accepted your demise?"

"Who are you to decide that this is not exactly what I desire?" 

You smile, raising your weapon to deliver your final mighty blow. "Goodbye, Charles Entertainment Cheese. May your memory be remembered but your legacy be forgotten." 

The three balls freeze in their place, suspended in time, surrounding the rat in equal and triangular measure, and you plunge your Minecraft Diamond Sword deep into its chest, securing your fate at last. 

For just a moment, the universe comes to a halt, and then it collapses, caving into its epicenter, as you watch thine mortal enemy disappear before your very eyes. 

And then it's your world around you, the one that you knew was false and grew to love anyway, shattering into a million pieces and crumbling to dust. 

You fall to the ground, bones weak and weary, and at the end of the room, a door opens.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nando peeks up from where he lays on the ground, blinking at the open door. He has no idea how much time has passed, but it feels like an eternity, and the promise of the familiar corridors of the USS Bartholomew is more than enough to get him scrambling to his feet. He stumbles as he runs, but at last, he is free, with the door of the holodeck sealed shut behind his back as he inhales and exhales slowly. 

Out of curiosity, Nando drifts over to the console and checks the program information. 

_Chuck E. Cheese (hard mode)_

Taking a mental note to message _Engineering_ to do something about that program, Nando shudders and leaves the holodeck far behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I need to preserve it somehow, [here is the photo archive of nando's entire day leading up to this point as well, including the original text as well as most of the reactions](https://docs.google.com/document/d/18b_HuKllRVvuLFwoblNXW37vGYYqcLuWkF3Zfi_1alY/edit?usp=sharing).
> 
> [i'm jimtitkirk on tumblr](https://jimtitkirk.tumblr.com/), but you can also find me on my [main blog](https://universalsatan.tumblr.com/) and my [writing blog](https://celestialberries.tumblr.com/).


End file.
